The other orphans marched past Sevarin in silence, avoiding his eyes.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Sevarin mocked. “All I wanted was some cola and a bedtime story!”
CHAPTER 32
M ilo walked Emma and Lily back to their bedroom.
“Don’t mind Sevarin,” Lily was saying. “He’s like that with everybody. He’s harmless. Really.”
“He’s a bully,” Emma said.
Milo kept silent. He agreed with Emma. Sevarin was the classic bully, a boy who took his anger and insecurities out on those who were smaller and not as strong; basically anyone who wasn’t a Sargonaut.
When they arrived at the door, Lily turned with a flourish and smiled at Milo.
“See you in class tomorrow.”
“Okay, Lily. Swood dreams.”
“What?”
Milo stood paralyzed by his own embarrassment. “Um—I meant to say ‘Good night’ and—but…”
She finished for him. “But you also wanted to say ‘Sweet dreams.’ So you combined them to form ‘Swood dreams.’ It’s okay. It happens to me all the time.”
He relaxed. “That’s good to near—I mean, know—I mean, hear!”
The girls looked at each other and giggled. Lily bounced a little on the pads of her feet. “Swood dreams!” she said.
With a smile that made her nose twitch, she turned and skipped into the bedroom.
Emma looked at Milo, covered her mouth, and stifled a giggle. It felt good to see her smile like that. As long as she was safe and happy, Milo felt he could endure anything. Even looking like a complete idiot in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
Emma hugged him. “Good night, little brother.”
“Hey,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Just because you were born two seconds before I was…”
“That makes me older!” She darted into the room and closed the door behind her. He could hear the girls giggling on the other side.
Alone now in the drafty hallway, Milo felt a shiver spread across his back. His room was at the other end of the hall, past the stairs—close, and yet so far away. The floor groaned beneath the weight of each step he took. He watched the closed doors on either side of him as he walked, just in case one should open.
At the hallway’s opposite end, a blue light burned on the wall next to Barrel’s door. Before that, to the left, was the door to Milo’s room. All he had to do was tiptoe as quietly as possible so as not to disturb anyone, and he would be in his warm, four-post bed before anyone could be the wiser.
He crept forward, keeping his eyes fixed on that ghostly blue light. The other orphans were so strange, especially Barrel. Milo had heard a rumor that the boy’s condition was known as “luminether poisoning”. Sometimes a Savant’s body was so sensitive to luminether that the cells began to age dramatically. It was a rare genetic condition, and there was no cure. He would live another ten or fifteen years if he was careful.
Gusts of wind pounded the building’s outer walls. Milo heard a sound from the other end of the hall—a drawn-out creaking, like a door being opened. Who could it be?
Elki.
He froze, thinking about the words Barrel had used to describe them.
Sleek, hairless dogs…bone spikes sticking out of their backs along the spine…rows and rows of teeth, like sharks, that could cut a person clean in half.
Milo inspected the doors on either side of him. To his shock, he found that one had been opened about a quarter of the way. The room beyond it was dimly lit, probably by a desk lamp.
Two heads jutted out of the opening and looked at him.
Milo jumped back, hitting the wall.
The door opened the rest of the way, and Owen and Gunner slid out into the hallway and stared at him.
“Milo,” Owen said in a whisper. “We thought you were something else.”
“Something?”
Gunner gave a frightened nod. Owen motioned for Milo to come forward. He spoke in a low voice.
“Spies. Assassins. You never know. The emperor has eyes and ears all over the continent.”
Milo sagged in relief. Spies and assassins didn’t seem half as bad as the Elki monstrosities he’d been worrying about a moment earlier.
“Oh, good. I thought you were going to say Elki.”
Owen’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say ‘Elki’? What do you want to know?”
“Actually,” Milo looked down the hall toward his bedroom door. He was thinking about his warm, comfortable bed by the window, where he could lie on his back and stare at the stars until he fell asleep. “I think it’s time to go to bed.”
Owen took a step back and nodded. Even in the near dark, Milo could see the boy’s frown of disappointment.
“No problem. Just thought you’d be interested in becoming an Elki hunter. We could always use more people like you. Savants are underrepresented in the guild. And demigods, especially…”
“The guild?”
Gunner was the one who spoke. “The Guardians formed a guild called the Steel Teeth for regular citizens who wanted to help out. Our goal is to hunt Elki out of existence, or die trying. You want in?”
Milo searched their faces for a sign that they were joking. They weren’t; both boys, still in hunting fatigues, wore expressions of grim determination.
“Tell me more,” Milo said.
Owen put a hand on Milo’s shoulder and led him into their bedroom, which smelled like unwashed laundry and dried mud and grass.
The room was chaos. Clothes had been strewn all over the floor and the two beds. Half-empty bags of seed sulked in the corners. Bits of mud shaped like the bottoms of someone’s boots lay on the floor by the door, as if the person wearing the boots had stomped their feet once or twice without cleaning up. A variety of crossbows, arrows, and leather vests and leggings spilled out of the half-open closet.
There were posters on the walls of giant robots wearing either red or blue armor and matching helmets with visors. The robots carried long, mechanical-looking swords. At the corner of each poster was a logo: Mecha Series. Milo had heard about them before. The military of the High Republic of Theus had been working on the Mecha program for decades, trying to create the perfect war machine. He wondered how Owen and Gunner had gotten the posters, since they were illegal in Taradyn.
There was a narrow bed on either side of the room. Owen sat on one and motioned for Milo to sit on the other. Milo sat, feeling strangely comfortable and giddy, like he was about to be initiated into some secret club.
“So, you want to know about Elki?” Owen said.
Gunner sat next to Milo. He held a small sack in one hand and was shoveling something into his mouth with the other. He offered some to Milo. They were seeds that smelled a bit like the spices in Italian-style pasta sauce. Milo took a handful and stuffed them into his mouth, keeping his eyes on Owen the whole time.
“There are three ways to kill ’em,” Owen said, clasping his hands together and leaning over them. “You can burn them, you can electrocute them, or you can stick them with an arrow or a knife made out of Tiberian steel, the strongest metal on Astros. It’s so strong that a Sargonaut, even one as strong as Sevarin, couldn’t break a small chain made out of it.”
A memory flashed in Milo’s mind of his father being stabbed with a dagger made from that same metal. He pushed it down and tried not to show his discomfort.
“That’s what they say, at least,” Owen continued. “Now, burning and electrocuting Elki is extremely difficult. You can’t just light them on fire or blast ’em with a lightning spell. The fire would have to be hot enough, and they’d have to be shocked long enough, to cause damage to their internal organs.
“Because, you see, their skin and muscle are nearly indestructible. Try stabbing them with a sword and the blade will snap. Throw ’em into a pit of red-hot lava and they’ll swim out, maybe missing a layer of skin, but not enough to stop them from attacking. That’s why you pretty much have to stick ’em with a
Tiberian blade or arrow. It poisons them and kills them quick. You understand?”
Milo nodded and crunched more seeds. A vision ran through his mind of himself, Owen, and Gunner sprinting through the forest hunting Elki like a bunch of mercenaries, wearing headbands, flashing Tiberian daggers, and inspiring legends across the countryside.
“So you just have to pierce their skin with this metal?” Milo said.
“Pretty much.” Owen rolled his eyes upward. “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”
“The armor,” Gunner said, popping a handful of seeds into his mouth. “Tell him about the weak spots.”
“Oh, right.” Owen nearly jumped off the bed. He stood over them, gesturing. “The weak spots. You can’t just hit them anywhere. Most of their body is protected by a thick layer of muscle that’s about five times tougher than leather, and there are only a half-dozen spots where a blade or an arrow can go through. Mouth, armpits, neck, and groin—M.A.N.G., that’s how I remember it. Here, I’ll show you. Gunner, the diagram.”
Gunner got up, leaving the sack of seeds on the bed, and walked toward the closet. He had to step over piles of clothes and toppled weapons to get there. He was a funny sight with his wobbly, uncertain walk. Milo was confused as to how such a skinny, awkward boy could be a hunter, but if there was one thing he’d learned since coming to Astros, it was never to underestimate anyone. After all, who would have thought that he, Milo Banks, could shoot a fireball from his hands?
Gunner came back with a large, rolled up sheet of paper that he unrolled and held against his chest. It was a detailed drawing of an Elki with lines and descriptions all over it, indicating areas of interest on the creature’s body. The Elki was every bit as ugly, terrifying, and revolting as Milo had imagined it to be—like a greyhound dog crossed with a Great White Shark, with a little bit of dragon thrown in.
Owen showed him the weak spots.
“Hey, Milo,” Gunner said, keeping the poster aloft. “Mind helping me out with those seeds?”
“Sure thing.” Milo lifted the sack and poured a healthy serving into his mouth.
“Fenk oo,” Gunner said, crunching them into a mash.
They moved on to the weapons, allowing Gunner to rest his arms. The weapons were meant to give Milo an idea of the different hunting methods one could use. They were not real weapons, but replicas made of plastic with blunted wooden tips. The swords had been carved from wood and painted to look like steel. Ascher didn’t allow real weapons inside the house—aside from his soldiers, of course—and it had taken Owen and Gunner months to convince him to allow fakes made from wood and plastic.
Milo was impressed at how realistic they were. Owen and Gunner had created the moulds themselves, and had poured in the plastic and carved the wooden blades in their spare time. They were serious about Elki hunting, which left one question burning in Milo’s mind.
“So, have you guys ever killed an Elki?”
Gunner looked at Owen, who turned his gaze down to the floor. The question seemed to drain all the confidence out of him.
“What’s the matter?”
Owen gave him a sideways look, as if he wasn’t sure Milo could handle the truth.
“You won’t believe me, just like everyone else.”
Milo leaned forward and looked Owen straight in the eyes. “Tell me.”
Owen shrugged and got up. He opened the top drawer of his bureau and took out a small box. He opened it and brought out something black and petrified, about the size of his fist.
“Three years ago, I killed an Elki a few miles from here. You see, I have a dagger made from Tiberian steel. My father gave it to me before a pack of Elki tore him apart and ate every last bit of him.”
Milo and Gunner sat forward, listening. Milo glanced now and then at the black object Owen kept turning over in his hands.
“One of the last things my father taught me before he died was that Elki are allergic to a chemical compound found in nectarwine. They drink it and it gives them stomachaches and puts them to sleep. So I set up a few traps in the foothills one day, nothing that could hurt a human being. I mostly used Arganulo shells—they’re like coconuts, except they’re pink and taste like soap. People can’t stand the taste of them, but Elki love the stuff.
“Anyway, I filled a bunch of them with nectarwine, plugged them, and left them in a clearing. Then I camped out in a tree, which is the safest place when you’re hunting Elki because they can’t climb. I stayed there for two days watching that clearing, until I saw one come out and start sniffing around. It ate the Arganulo shells, nectarwine and all.”
He paused for a moment, looking blankly down at the floor. “I followed it at a distance, mostly using its droppings and vomit to track it. It couldn’t handle the nectarwine, so it was constantly crapping and puking all over the place. Finally, it fell asleep. That’s when I brought out the knife and approached it.”
Milo was sitting so close to the edge of the bed, he almost slid off. “What’d you do?”
“Wait ’til you hear this,” Gunner said quietly.
Owen licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I stuck the knife into the Elki’s throat and killed it. I didn’t feel anything—after all, those demon bastards killed my father. But it took me a while to do it, about ten minutes of standing over the thing, wondering if I had the guts to do it or if I would just run away, like I ran away from home when they told me my old man wasn’t coming back. I didn’t hear the other Elki coming up behind me. Apparently, the Elki I had just killed was its mate. It jumped me before I had a chance to prepare myself.”
Owen hunched over his knees. He looked at the petrified black thing in his hands. Whatever it was, it looked sharp and deadly.
“That’s unbelievable,” Milo said. “Why are you still here? You should be dead, shouldn’t you?”
“Of course.” Owen gave him a wide-eyed look. “No one survives an encounter with an Elki like that. But, you see, I was lucky. When the second Elki attacked me, I managed to turn around just in time. I stuck him with the dagger right here.” He made a stabbing motion against his left armpit. “It was an accident. I never told anyone I did it on purpose. But they don’t believe me. How can I expect them to?” He shrugged. “I took the creature’s paw as a souvenir, but that only made it worse. Everyone was convinced I killed the first one—the female—while it was sleeping and then made up the rest of the story. I guess that’s life. I wouldn’t believe it either. A young Humankin like me killing two Elki in one day? A female and a male? I’d be a legend if people didn’t think I was making it all up.”
He handed Milo the petrified object. It was a claw, which was what Milo had originally suspected. The claw, however, didn’t resemble any other he’d ever seen. It looked more like a talon from an immense bird of prey, or a velociraptor from that movie, Jurassic Park, that he and Emma had watched six times after their father had come home with the DVD.
The claw had three talons, one of which was large and curved, perfect for disemboweling prey. Milo passed it back.
“Now show him the other thing,” Gunner said.
“I don’t know.” Owen leaned back, his lips gathered in a pout. “Do you think he can handle it?”
“Handle what?” Milo said.
Owen got up and went to the closet. He dug around inside until he found a small case made of what appeared to be black leather. He took something shiny out of the case and covered it with his body so Milo wouldn’t see what it was.
“You can’t tell Ascher. He’ll make me wash dishes for a month if he knows I took this out of the storage room. I just couldn’t bear to be without it.”
Owen revealed what was in his hands. Milo let out a breath of wonder.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Owen nodded. “Here. Hold it.”
It was the tiniest knife Milo had ever seen, the blade about three inches long and as wide as two of his fingers pressed together. But it was razor-thin, and felt light and deadly in his h
ands.
“It’s pretty small,” Owen said with a shrug, “but that blade is probably worth more than this entire ranch. Maybe I’ll sell it someday, buy a ranch of my own.”
Milo frowned as he turned and twisted it, the light glinting off its flawless surface. “It’s—it’s not black, though. The ones they used on my dad…” His voice trailed off as the memory filled him with sadness.
“Those were dipped in Cebron blood,” Owen said. “It corrupts the metal, makes it poisonous to people like us. People with the blood of the gods.”
Milo handed back the dagger, glad to be rid of it. “I’m sorry about what happened to your father,” he told Owen.
“Don’t be. Your dad died, too, and Gunner’s family was shot down by North Korean border guards right before his eyes. We have a lot in common, the three of us. And with you being a demigod, maybe someday we could be famous Elki hunters together. We could help the Guardians and the Steel Teeth eliminate the Elki species for good, and save thousands of human lives in the process.”
“Darn tootin’,” Gunner said, picking seeds off the bed and flicking them aside.
“By the way,” Milo told Owen, “I believe you. About the two Elki, I mean.”
Owen shook his head. “I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. It’s part of the Steel Teeth code. We don’t kill Elki for fame. We kill them for peace.”
CHAPTER 33
K ovax shivered as a cold breeze slipped into his cloak.
The land was misty and wet. The trees, black and shorn of leaves, seemed to brood like old people in black at a funeral. Wretchlows, perched on jagged rocks, fluffed their oily feathers and flapped their enormous, tattered wings, opening their hooked beaks now and then to squawk at the passing soldiers. Flitflies darted through the air, mouthpieces moving as they waited for someone to expose a bit of skin so they could bite and drink. The old mapmakers had named this place the Withered Forest, and with good reason.
Kovax had spent the day leading a pack of soldiers toward the Nardgrillax Peaks, a string of mountains that looked the way their ancient name sounded—black and ugly, like a burnt, twisted animal spine pressed into the earth.
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